Faded Gray Lines Page 6

“Being sent to prison does that to a man.”

  I stared at him, openmouthed and wide-eyed.

  He cocked his head and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what happened that night.”

  “I didn’t. I—I don’t.”

  “Well, you didn’t wait around to find out, did you, Star?” He paused, pressing our hips together again, causing me to bite back a groan. “Or should I call you Leighton? That is your name, isn’t it? Leighton Harcourt—the woman at the root of an international war. How does it feel to have so much blood on your delicate little hands?”

  “Why are you being so cruel?” I fought his grip and dropped my chin forward, but he tightened his hold on my hair, pulling it back up.

  “I’ve always told you I was cruel. You just didn’t divulge the same, Star.”

  I jerked against him. “Stop calling me that!”

  “You really are still an innocent little lamb, aren’t you?”

  As I’m discovering, more like a sacrificial lamb.

  “I’m far from innocent,” I hissed. “And you’re one to talk. Don’t hand me that ‘shareholder of RVC Enterprises’ bullshit my brother tried to sell me. I know exactly who you are.”

  He didn’t react to my taunt like I thought he would. On the contrary, he angled his nose between my earlobe and the top of my jaw, tracing a line down to my chin. “Still believing there are only shades of black and white? Didn’t what happened prove to you there’s an entire gray area between the two? Your moral codes and government laws won’t save you here. You’ve stepped over the line and crossed into my world. Welcome to the den of depravity, little lamb.”

  I shivered at his touch and his words. “Has this always been your world?”

  Without warning, he dipped his nose into my neck and inhaled hard. “You still smell like a meadow,” he groaned. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to smell wildflowers and have your cock and your heart ache at the same time. You broke me, Star.”

  His admission gutted me, and although I wanted to hold onto my anger, I couldn’t. Just as I started to tell him I’d been in irreparable pieces for four years, he released his hold on me and turned around.

  Shocked, I watched as he reached for the door. “You’re just leaving me?”

  He paused but never looked over his shoulder. “I want to see if it’s as easy for me as it was for you.”

  “You don’t know anything about me or what happened.”

  “You’re right. I don’t,” he said quietly. “I trusted the person I thought I knew.”

  “Well, I trusted everyone,” I seethed, betrayals I’d sworn to never speak of again filling my head. “I’ll never make that mistake again.”

  That got his attention, and he twisted at the waist, the earlier heat in his eyes now dull. “You have no choice, Miss Harcourt. You’ve gotten yourself into a mess I have to clean up. From where I’m standing, I’m the only one you can trust.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Interesting. You don’t want me to call you Star or Leighton or Miss Harcourt. I’d call you mi amor, but that term was used out of affection, and we both know that’s long gone. However, I’m sure there are a few names more fitting to your behavior I could come up with if you prefer.”

  “Don’t you dare get self-righteous with me, Matty,” I warned, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You want to talk about trust and promises, but you didn’t show up that night, and you never looked for me. Why?”

  I waited. For vindication. For healing. For an answer to the question that kept me awake night after night. Instead, he ignored me and turned to leave.

  Something in me snapped.

  “Answer me, damn it!” Grabbing the metal soap dispenser next to the faucet, I hurled it across the room. It slammed into the door inches from his head, denting the wood and crashing to the floor.

  “My name is Mateo,” he said, staring at the pink ooze spilling from the cracked top in the dispenser. “And life is sacrifice, Leighton. Let this be a lesson—the only person you should ever trust is yourself.” Kicking the dispenser out of the way, he flung the door open and slammed it behind him.

  With the weight of our confrontation hitting me, I slumped backward, sitting on the edge of the sink again. Balling my fists, I pressed them against my eyes and let the tears fall. The more I cried, the more I shook.

  Damn him. Just...damn him.

  When I got in my car yesterday, I planned for Brody’s reaction when I eventually told him about my deceit. I planned for my family to eventually hate me when they learned of all the sins I’d committed in the name of love. I planned for a life of continually looking over my shoulder, wondering when the Carrera Cartel would take their revenge on me. Not once did I plan on the only man I’d ever given my heart to showing up after four years and blowing everything to hell.

  We were supposed to be the perfect love story. Instead, we ended up a tragedy that broke every rule.

  I touched the path his thumb had traced down my cheek and closed my eyes. Broken rules and tragedies had done nothing to dull my ache for him. The heat between us burned as strong as ever, and the strength in his touch proved it. Whatever we had was still there, buried under a debt of secrets.

  Dad was right. The eyes were the window to the soul. And despite what his mouth said, my Matty’s soul still shone through the faded gray line he’d left behind at our railroad trestle.

  Eight

  Mateo

  Seeing Star again fucked with my head so much, I finished my conversation with Brody and hit an Irish pub three blocks from RVC Enterprises.

  Leighton. Star. What-the-fuck-ever.

  “Another one, bartender.” Sliding the empty glass across the scratched wood, I watched it tumble onto its side and roll toward the edge. I would’ve been happy to hear it shatter on the floor, but a pair of red painted nails caught it and held it up like a trophy.

  “That’s four in the last fifteen minutes, honey. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  I tried ignoring her, but she kept standing there. Obviously, she wasn’t going to move until I answered her, which was a stupid move on her part. The more I drank, the higher the tab.

  And I was a big tipper.

  “I’ll tell you what...” Pausing, I searched her chest for a nametag. “...Megan. You keep pouring, and when I fall off this fucking barstool, we’ll both know I’ve had enough.” Lowering my eyes, I went back to the task at hand, clicking repeatedly as picture after picture flashed on the screen. Luis wasn’t an idiot. There wouldn’t be anything substantial I could pull off his computer, but sadistic jealousy had gotten the better of me.

  There was an old saying, Be careful what you wish for...you just might get it.

  Old sayings existed for a reason.

  Pictures of Leighton and Luis were all over his computer and as if I hadn’t tortured myself enough, I dug through the backpack and scrolled through his phone to analyze more. In each one, her golden-brown eyes smiled at the camera, but his were always focused on her. The more I stared, the more a wave of seething hate clouded my judgment.

  “Try to make this one last more than thirty seconds, okay?” Megan barely had time to slide the new tequila shot toward me before I downed it. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the one in my chest.

  I recognized the look in his eyes.

  Since finding out who Leighton Harcourt really was, I tried to convince myself she’d been just a job to Luis. Brody had sent him to San Marcos to protect her, and he’d played a role for her. We all played roles. Most of the time even those closest to us had no idea which version of us they faced. But there was no facade on Luis’s face. He loved her. He loved my Star. In that moment, I hated Luis Delgado more than any man I’d ever known.

  Dropping the phone on the bar, I slammed the laptop closed and shoved it back inside the backpack. Thankfully, she hadn’t been staring back at him with the same love-sick look. Otherwise, I would’ve pulled out my gun and put
a bullet through the screen, public place or not.

  “Megan,” I called out, tapping the wood with my empty glass. “We had a deal, and I’m still vertical.”

  “Let’s keep it that way, honey. You’re cut off.”

  Irritated, I picked up Luis’s phone and glared at her. If I didn’t have pressing shit to do, I would’ve gladly argued with one of the three versions of her I saw swirling in front of me. Instead, I scrolled through Luis’s call history.

  There were only five numbers listed, and I recognized two of them to be Brody’s and Emilio’s. That in itself didn’t raise any suspicion. Luis reported to both of them. That left three and I knew one of them was Leighton’s since Brody had given me her number for comparison before I left the cantina.

  I called the remaining two from his phone, and both rang continuously until I hung up. There was no answer, no voice mail...nothing. It didn’t sit well with me, so I pulled out my own phone and dialed a few men who’d been loyal to me when I was the Houston underboss.

  “Hey, it’s Cortes. I need you to put the word out that you’re looking for a couple of soldiers owning these two phone numbers, but keep it quiet.” Glancing down at Luis’s phone, I repeated the numbers. After promising to have the information back to me as quickly and discreetly as possible, we ended the call.

  Hopefully, my contact would get back to me with solid leads. If not, we were back to square one and facing another dead end.

  Just like Luis.

  My head pounded by the time I opened the door to the townhouse. Groaning, I flipped on the light and tossed the keys on the floor. When I parked the Tahoe a soldier had delivered to me back in San Marcos, the clock on the dashboard read one-thirty in the morning.

  What a fucking day.

  After four hours of straight tequila, I’d walked from the Irish pub to RVC, so I could sleep it off until I was sober enough to drive back to the townhouse. Now that I was here, I was more than ready to drink a ghost away again.

  Even though this place was our primary safe house, it still belonged to Val’s wife, Eden. After their ordeal with the Muñoz Cartel, she’d tried to sell it, but Val ended up buying it out from under her. Although she was gone, it still reeked of female presence with all the framed artwork, flower vases, and fucking knickknack shit just asking to get demolished.

  Women.

  Flinging open the refrigerator, I prayed Brody had the common decency to stock it before making the call to turn our world upside down with his sister’s bullshit.

  His fucking sister. Of all the people, it had to be her.

  My fingers closed around a bottle, and I silently thanked him, reminding myself to dial back my attitude a little. Once he found out Delgado wasn’t the first cartel runner to touch his innocent baby sister, he’d be out for more than my blood.

  With the vein in my temple throbbing, I stumbled across the living room and through the sliding glass doors leading to the deck.

  Air. I needed air.

  Once outside, the crisp March breeze whipped my long hair around my face like a mask. It felt good. Masks hid weaknesses that threatened to ruin everything a man had worked for. I trusted masks. I did not trust her.

  Slumping into a patio chair, I dropped my head back and tried to block the image of them together by staring up at the night. Unfortunately, karma was a motherfucker, and a shooting star raced across the blackened sky.

  Of course.

  It reminded me of the countless nights we’d lie on the grass, waiting to see one. She’d always believed destiny was written in the stars and seeing one fall meant a big change was about to come.

  We never saw one. I should’ve known the reason was because she was my shooting star. Her prediction had been right. Eventually change did come, and I never saw her again.

  Until today.

  I raised my beer in a toast toward the sky. “Bullshit. The only thing written in the stars is, ‘fuck you, Mateo.’” Tilting the bottle back, I drained half of it in one gulp.

  Dios mío, I should’ve been able to let her go. I thought I had. Hell, she’d obviously had no problem doing it. She’d allowed Delgado to get close enough to almost end her life. Just the thought of them together made me want to go back and pick up that soap dispenser she’d thrown at me so I could bash his head in. If he wasn’t already dead, of course.

  Shit, that posed another problem. I’d been so distracted by her I never asked any questions that mattered. This was exactly why any direct contact between us from now on had to involve Brody. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with her.

  I’d just tossed my empty beer bottle on the side table when my jacket buzzed. I didn’t bother to see who it was. Other than the informant I called at the bar, only three people had the number to this phone. One had already threatened to break my legs if I disappeared with his sister again and the other was probably balls deep in his dumb as rocks bartender.

  That only left one person.

  I answered with a smirk. “Are you calling for an update, or did you just want to hear my voice?”

  Val wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Why the hell do I put up with your disrespect?”

  “Because I’m loyal as hell, and you know it,” I said, grateful for the distraction.

  He said nothing for a moment, and I allowed myself the small victory. They were few and far between with a man like Val.

  “Update,” he demanded.

  “Huh?”

  He let out a frustrated growl. “Update, you drunk asshole.”

  “There’s been a glitch.”

  “What glitch?” he asked, his voice low. “My instructions weren’t complicated. Get Harcourt and his sister out of this shit, find out what the fuck Delgado was up to, and make it go away.”

  I stared at the city below my feet. “She’s the problem.”

  “Who?”

  “Harcourt’s sister.”

  Val sighed. “Keep your hands off her, Mateo. Wasn’t it you who reminded me that Leighton Harcourt is familia? We don’t fuck familia.”

  The repetitive word made me wince. “Too late.”

  He let out a string of curses. “You’ve been there less than twelve fucking hours. What the hell, Cortes? You couldn’t go a full twenty-four without sticking your dick into a lieutenant’s sister?”

  I gripped the metal arm of the chair. “Thanks for your concern, but I’ve gone a full four years without sticking my dick in her.”

  “Mateo, this shit is getting complicated. I hate complicated.”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking. I had no clue my girl was Brody’s sister. Especially not the sister who’s causing all this shit.”

  “How in the hell could you not know?” he demanded, cutting me off. “How many Leighton Harcourts have you fucked, Mateo?”

  “None. When I met her, she told me her name was Star.”

  There. I said it.

  “Just Star, huh?” Sarcasm oozed from the other end of the line. “No last name? No house? You spread her legs, but never talked about anything?”

  His accusation flipped a switch in me. “Watch it, Val. You’re my boss and my friend, but don’t ever talk about her like that again. I’d never allow someone to disrespect Eden, and I’d expect the same from you.”

  “Noted. Continue.”

  An apology from Valentin Carrera was rare, and that was as deep as they got, so I spilled the closely guarded secret that could cost me my rank.

  “She was young. We both were, but she was just out of high school. She never wanted to be home and that’s why she’d never asked me to come around. It didn’t matter anyway because I wasn’t the parent-meeting type. We spent every night together.” I stopped and rubbed the back of my neck as memories I’d locked away came rushing back. “One night we met, and she was frantic. She begged me to run away with her. I know it was wrong, but I told her yes. I would’ve done anything to be with her.”

  Silence stretched between us again, and I could almost hear Val calculate the
dates in his head. “You were already a sicario in my cartel four years ago,” he said, giving voice to the deadliest secret I’d kept from him.

  “I know.”

  “Yet you said yes. You were a twenty-two-year old man who chose to risk both your lives, for what? Some foolish crush that would’ve gotten you both killed?”

  “Don’t patronize me, Val,” I snarled in between clenched teeth. “It was as real as what you and Eden have, but it never came to that. I got arrested and locked up for a year.”

  “What about now?” he said, his voice slightly calmer. “Where does your loyalty lie? If a gun was pressed against Leighton’s head and Brody’s head, who do you save, Mateo?”

  I’d asked myself this question a dozen times while sitting in that shitty pub. By the time I’d drained half a bottle of tequila, the answer was much clearer than my vision.

  Loyalty begot loyalty. She’d given me none, so she was owed the same.

  “Brody,” I answered. “The cartel comes first.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “You doubt my loyalty?”

  “No, but I think you do.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Mateo, you hesitated in answering. Sometimes what you don’t say tells me more than what you do.”

  I contemplated arguing, but I knew it would get me nowhere.

  “I take it Leighton has no idea who you really are?”

  I had to think fast. Either I went all in or stepped off the ledge with a sin of omission.

  I braced myself. “She does now.”

  Val exploded. “Pinche estupido!” Fucking idiot. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing unfixable. She’s not as innocent as everyone think she is.” The words burned like acid on my tongue. “She knew about Brody’s involvement with us, Val. I don’t know what kind of shit she’s been feeding him, but she knows. So, yeah, I fucked with her a little and threw my weight around. She pushed my buttons, all right?”

  “You’ve got to take emotion out of this. Do you hear me?” he warned. “Mark my words, Mateo. This woman will end you if you continue thinking with your heart instead of your head.”